


Can I Make It Anymore Obvious

by evol_love



Series: The Ballet 'verse [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 12:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evol_love/pseuds/evol_love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was a boy/He was a boy/ Can I make it anymore obvious?<br/>He was a punk/ He did ballet/What more can I say?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can I Make It Anymore Obvious

**Author's Note:**

> WHAT HAVE I DONE SWEET JESUS WHAT HAVE I DONE.  
> I blame this fic entirely on Pembroke (pembroke.tumblr.com) and her amazing Jehan/Montparnasse art. I've been wanting to write a ballet AU for something ever since reading the amazing "I Bet Nureyev Never Had to Deal With This Shit" by cobweb_diamond (that fic is infinitely better than this, sorry!) and then I was in Target buying neon pink floral studded shorts and thinking of this ship and also at the same time thinking of bad song lyrics to text my friends and THIS HAPPENED. I am so sorry.  
> I also spent a lot of time looking at pictures of actual hideous floral leg warmers for inspiration. Wow. The world makes some really unnecessary clothing.  
> 

The eighth time Montparnasse sees the hideous floral leg warmers, he decides it's time to say something.

"You do know you're wearing leg warmers, right? Like, actual droopy-around-the-ankle, 80's-approved leg warmers?"

The person in front of him whirls around and _it's a guy,_ jesus christ.

He doesn't look pissed off, though, he just shrugs and says, "They're comfy."

They're. Comfy.

Montparnasse can feel the involuntary eyebrow raise, and he's willing to admit he's kind of an asshole, but he can't help it. This entire scene is so absurd.

"I see," he says finally, when he realizes the guy's looking at him expectantly, like this is an actual conversation and not some surreal out-of-body experience. "Have you ever considered - just thinking out loud here - just wearing pants?"

To his surprise, the guy just smiles a little and shrugs. "I don't really care," he says simply. "They make me happy." And then he flits off like some fucking pixie or something, and what the _hell_ just happened? Montparnasse can't be entirely sure he didn't imagine him.

But he didn't.

He knows he didn't just dream the whole encounter up in a bad trip or something, because there he is. The guy's got his ridiculous hair in a _braid_ now, and he's leaning against the wall as Montparnasse walks to the English lecture he may as well attend, because it's not like he has anything better to do. The leg warmers are, luckily, absent today, but those things on his legs instead seem to be the jeggings Eponine so often talks about. He doesn't mean to stare, not really, and he doesn't mean to walk into the door either, and he sure as _shit_ doesn't mean to drop all of his stuff and hurl it across the hall.

"Damn," he says under his breath as he starts gathering up scattered loose leaf pages.

"Oh god, here, let me," and then there's another person on the ground beside him, scrambling to scoop up papers before they're crushed by other students on their way to class.

"It's fine, it's fine," and Montparnasse relieves the Good Samaritan of his armful before looking at him properly. Honestly, Montparnasse wonders how he didn't realize who it was sooner, because this is his life now, apparently. This might as well happen.

The boy's braid is slung over his left shoulder and he's smiling a little shyly as he says, "Here you go," and passes Montparnasse the rest of his belongings. He looks up into Montparnasse's eyes and says, "Uh, I'm Jehan."

"Montparnasse," he replies, somehow both begrudgingly and automatically.

"You're the dick who commented on my clothes last week."

Of course. "Yep." He pops the 'p' and hopes this will be over quickly and the guy will storm off in a huff or something so Montparnasse can get on with his life.

But Jehan...laughs. "I'm not mad, jesus. I was making the connection."

Montparnasse just stares at him, a little slack jawed at this point.

Jehan frowns just ever so slightly, and, distantly, Montparnasse thinks, 'No, no, keep smiling.'

"Did you hit your head or something when you, uh, ran into that door?" Jehan is trying to make him sound like less of a moron than he is, fuck. He is so screwed.

"No, no, I'm fine." He forces himself to stand up and practically runs to class.

"You're welcome!" Jehan hollers after him. Montparnasse freezes in the doorway, pissing off several people behind him. Whatever.

"Thank you," he says, gruff, without raising his voice. He wouldn't even be sure Jehan had heard him, except he can hear his laugh all the way down the hall.

\----

"You're an idiot," Eponine says dryly as they eat lunch together. She's lying on her stomach across the grass while he sits and chews thoughtfully on a bench.

"Thanks, Ep, knew I could always count on you for an ego boost."

She just rolls her eyes. They aren't...friends, exactly. They just run in similar circles and put up with similar levels of bullshit. He pulls out a cigarette instead of continuing the conversation and offers one half-heartedly to Eponine. They smoke in silence a moment before Eponine asks, "What did he look like?"

"How am I supposed to remember, that's not the important-"

"Oh, BS. Was he hot?"

He gives her a long look that she doesn't buy for a second.

"He was...nice enough, if that's your thing," he concedes at last. She looks so triumphant you'd think he'd admitted to a sordid affair.

"Uh huh. You said you'd seen him before?"

"Yeah." Now he's uncomfortable. How had she even managed to get all of this from him? "I might've made a comment about his ridiculous floral legwarmers."

Eponine chokes and hacks for a long minute, beating her chest and coughing helplessly before wheezing, "Floral?"

"Yeah, I know, it's-"

"I fucking _know_ him."

Well. He'll admit that that's a plot twist.

"How on earth would you know him, Eponine?"

Instead of actually answering him, her face splits into a particularly worrying grin. "Oh my god, you have a fucking crush on Prouvaire," and then she laughs helplessly, head thrown back and eyes crinkled shut.

"What?"

"Jean Prouvaire? He's-he's in my fucking ballet class."

Of course, his first reaction is, "You take ballet?"

She waves a hand dismissively. "Not the point. He's a dancer, oh my _god_ this is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"You take _ballet_?" he repeats, still stuck on that first point.

"It's just a side thing. I don't know, it beats going to the gym or something. I don't take it seriously, if that's what you're getting at. _He_ does though. He's amazing. Best in the class, easily."

What did he do. What could he possibly have done to deserve this in his life?

\----

"Okay, but the _real_ question here is when did you become a dance mom?" Montparnasse asks, because it's about time someone's life was more ridiculous than his.

Marius looks genuinely offended at the idea of being Eponine's stage mother. "I just give her rides sometimes, it's not like I sit in on class or go to recitals and-"

"You fucking liar, you totally do." Montparnasse cracks a smile. "That's so sweet, Pontmercy." Marius just looks irritated but remains silent.

Eponine, after a serious bout of giving him shit over the whole Jehan thing yet again, had informed him that Marius was picking her up after dance Tuesday night and that Montparnasse was _more than welcome to tag along_ (and then she'd done some horrifying thing with her eyebrows that made him want to take a shower. Possibly two). For reasons he doesn't fully understand himself, he'd actually taken her up on the offer, so now he's sitting in a car with Marius Pontmercy and bad pop music and if Jehan is not gay he might just jump off a fucking bridge.

Of course, the floral leg warmers feel like a pretty good indicator.

\----

He waits in the lobby and feels more and more stupid by the second. He feels like some soccer mom waiting to pick up his little cherub in a leotard. And then that thought processes and he panics, because he is not emotionally equipped to deal with Jehan in a leotard. For once, he's hoping the man's at least wearing leggings.

The door slams loudly against the wall as it suddenly flies open, signalling the end of class, and a flurry of people barge into the room to collect their bags and peel uncomfortable-looking shoes off their feet. He cranes his neck for Jehan - he can't possibly be hard to spot - but he only sees Eponine. She's plunked down on Marius's lap, rubbing her toes and looking pained. Why exactly people choose to do ballet is beyond him. It looks _terrifying_.

"Montparnasse?" a familiar voice asks, and...well. There he is.

He's not wearing a leotard, thank christ, but the clothes are tight and stretchy enough that they aren't much better. And Jehan's all sweaty and flushed, his hair is bound up in some ridiculous up-do he's previously only seen in people's prom photos, and Montparnasse likes this side of Jehan. He really, _really_ does. His mouth goes dry as he stares unabashedly, and the first thing that comes out of his mouth is, "What, no tutu?"

He may jump off that bridge after all.

To his credit, Jehan looks entirely unphased. Montparnasse registers distantly that he's probably heard it all before, and worse. He'd probably be more upset about that if he wasn't so focused on the pretty little blush creeping across the taller boy's face.

"What are you doing here?" Jehan asks him, thankfully not sounding completely creeped out or annoyed, just curious.

"Eponine mentioned she dances with you sometimes. I was intrigued."

"By me?"

"I guess that's about right."

Jehan seems to think something over, biting his bottom lip in a way that feels obscene before beaming and running over to grab a bag slung carelessly over a chair.

"Just let me get these off, just a second," and Jehan plops down and starts working his feet out of those torture devices people call pointe shoes. He moans in relief once he's free, looking so fucking blissed out that Montparnasse can physically feel himself turn red. "Sorry. I mean, I love dancing and all, but it's such a relief to take those off once you've been going for three hours, you know?" He scrunches up his nose and adds as an afterthought, "Or, I guess you don't know."

"No, I can't say I've ever had that experience,"he agrees, smiling a little in spite of how weird this all is.

"'Parnasse!" Eponine yells over the talk of the other dancers.

"What?" he yells back, irritated. She's interrupting their _moment._

"Marius and I are leaving, are you done flirting?"

He goes, if possible, redder, and doesn't dare look back at Jehan. "Screw you, Ep."

"I could drive you home, if you wanted," Jehan says tentatively.

"Are you...really?"

"Sure, I mean, you don't have-"

"I'd hate to be a-"

"It's not a big-"

"Well, if you really-"

Thankfully, Jehan spares them both any further humiliation by giggling. He actually, truly giggles. _How is he real?_

"I'll take you home."

"Thanks."

And then they're just looking at each other, which should not feel as intense and important and fucking life-altering as it does.

"So," Jehan says, slipping into a pair of Doc Martens printed with - of course - flowers. "It's almost 9:30, don't you have anything better to do than hang around a ballet studio?"

"Not really," he says truthfully.

"Come on, someone interesting like you has got to have some kind of hobby."

"Interesting?" he snorts. "Hardly."

"You must do _something_ ," Jehan insists, finally tugging his boots on all the way.

"I don't think smoking quite counts as a hobby."

Jehan pulls on a coat and picks up his bag once more. "Alright, boring guy, let's go." They walk out into the parking lot, Marius's car long gone. "Hop in."

Montparnasse only hesitates a moment before opening the passenger door of Jehan's car (vintage and cute in that way old cars are, very Jehan) and climbing inside. "Thanks, again, for the, you know. Ride." He's just so eloquent around Jehan, really. "So, are you planning to become a dancer when you graduate?"

"Well, that's the plan. I'm kind of, um, a dance major." He coughs lightly in a way that is transparently forced. "I'm sort of student teaching this class, actually."

"Ep did say you're the best," Montparnasse says, processing this.

Jehan smiles warmly at that. "Really? That's sweet of her. We talk sometimes. Eponine and I, I mean. She's nice."

"Boy, have you got her wrong," Montparnasse snickers. "Eponine's the worst person I know."

Jehan frowns a little at this. Montparnasse wonders what it was that he's finally done to break this poor, sweet guy who seemed like something Montparnasse finally couldn't ruin. They sit in silence a moment, Jehan starting the car and pulling out before asking, "Is she your girlfriend?"

Montparnasse remembers the choking fit Eponine had the other day and wonders if recreating it would be too melodramatic. Then again, Jehan seems like the type to appreciate a little art. "Eponine? _My_ girlfriend? Oh _god_ no, I was hoping your gaydar was a little better than that."

Jehan brightens. "Oh."

More silence.

"Sorry to pry. I just...you two seem close..."

"She's my friend. Just my friend."

Jehan nods, a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth. "Cool."

They talk while Montparnasse guides him back to his apartment, about Eponine and school and everything under the sun. Jehan cuts the engine once they're out in front of Montparnasse's building, and they sit in silence. He knows it's a soppy romance novel cliche, but Montparnasse finds he really doesn't want to leave.

"Would you want to do this again sometime?" he asks.

Jehan raises an eyebrow at him. "Would I like you to stalk me at my dance class once a week and have you mooch a ride afterwards?"

"Well, when you put it like that..."

"Yes. I'd like to see you again. If that's what you meant."

Montparnasse ducks his head to hide his grin, glancing back up to see Jehan watching him, fascinated.

"How about-" but Montparnasse cuts him off because nope, for once, he's just going to fucking go for it. He cups Jehan's jaw and presses their mouths together roughly, licking over his bottom lip and feeling the rougher patch where Jehan had been biting it earlier. Jehan's surprised little squeak almost makes him chicken out and pull away, but then Jehan breathes out this little sigh and oh. Oh. God, yes. Jehan's mouth falls open, just a little, and Montparnasse takes the opportunity to bite his lip, to suck on his tongue.

"Shit," Jehan whispers, and Montparnasse decides right then and there to make it his mission to make Jehan swear as much as possible from now on, by any means necessary. Jehan's hands curl into his hair, tugging on it to pull him closer, twisting it for a better angle on Montparnasse's mouth.

"Would you want to do this again sometime?" Montparnasse repeats as he pulls off, and Jehan smacks him in the chest and giggles.

"Goodnight, Montparnasse."

And as Montparnasse gets out of the car and unlocks his front door, he smiles to himself and wonders at how many more times he'll get to hear those words from Jehan.


End file.
